On Too Long
by The Thing in the Cave
Summary: Ben has had the watch on way to long, and now he is paying the price. Rated T for gory bits. Not much romance, but maybe BenxOC later. My first Ben 10 fic, so please R&R. Set in original series.
1. Gray Matter

Behold, the blabbering beauty that is my first Ben 10 fic! This chapter is more of an introduction than a chapter, seeing as this isn't even close to as long as what chapter 2 will be. I have mixed feelings about this chapter, which I think is both a work of art and a piece of garbage. This part is pretty uneventful, mostly just a big foreshadowing thingy. Well, chapter two is close to finished, so you won't have to live with this to long. Enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ben 10. Wish I did, but no. -grumble-**

* * *

"Gravity is the force that pulls everything to the ground…"

Thoughts and daydreams began to swirl around in Ben's head, washing out the teacher's lecture until it was a mere mumble in the background. He had more important things to think about than science class- he was a hero, after all. He didn't even know the full extent of his powers yet. Well, technically they weren't real superpowers, just a piece of alien tech that let him turn into a whole bunch of different aliens. Still, it was his burden, and he had every right to know how to use it correctly.

He glanced down at the Omnitrix. What would happen if he kept turning it left? Maybe he would find a new hero to try out. Either that, or the cap would unscrew and he could accidentally mutate his dog into some kind of Wildmutt thing. Then there was always the option of setting it on self destruct and blowing up half the universe, which wasn't good. He decided against it.

His gaze steadily dropped down his hand, finally lingering on his pencil. He pressed down on the tip, and the eraser end shot up in response. He did it again, and began to wonder how the heck it did that. Maybe there was some planet out there where when you push down the tip of the pencil, the tip goes up instead. He smiled at the concept. What would someone from that planet be like? It would probably be pretty discombobulated on earth. Now that's one alien he didn't want on the watch.

He pushed on the tip again. Something struck him about how the pencil was reacting. He knew there was a word for a mechanism like this (they learned it in science last year, but he didn't pay any attention), he just didn't know what. But somehow, he did.

_Lever! _A high, squeaky voice shouted in the back of his mind. Yes, it was a lever. Although he was happy (and confused) with the sudden knowledge, his mind wanted more.

Invisible markers scribbled over his vision, leaving a white sketch of the pencil. Kind of like one of those blueprint things you find at construction sites. _Let's see, _he thought, _Effort, resistance, fulcrum… What am I thinking?_ Even so, he didn't stop.

What did he know about this? The fulcrum was at the place where the wood and yellow paint meet, the tip was the effort, and the other end was the resistance. Effort, fulcrum, resistance. That order meant…

"Ben?"

"First class lever!" he shouted out loud. The blueprint blinked from his eyes the second he became aware. The whole class was staring at him- twenty pairs of quizzical glares that made his skin tingle. What had he just said?

Mr. Charles smiled. "Very good, Ben." Then he moved on.

Ben sighed and banged his head against the desk. Either he had picked up on something the teacher had said that effected his train of thought, or he was just plain lucky. He guessed it was the second one. Maybe hanging out with Lucky Girl all summer had had its advantages.

The good thing about Mr. Charles is that once he calls on you once without warning, he won't do it again that class. So he was free to let his mind wander and sort itself out. But no matter what he thought about, it all went down to one of two things; math or science. He thought about Sumo Slammers, new names to call Gwen next time he sees her, and even tried thinking about magic. But nothing could get his mind of science.

He even tried listening to the teacher, and found himself engrossed in everything he said. He ended up answering a few questions that wouldn't make him sound like he knew too much, just because. It was then that he knew something was wrong with him.

He tried another topic, testing to see if he could relate it to science. Kai.

Kai, that double crossing, idiotic, devilish, childish, intelligent, courageous, insanely hot…

He shook his head. Any way you sliced it, he still loved her, even if she did try to keep him as a pet when he was the werewolf. Speaking of werewolf, he wondered exactly how powerful that thing could roar. He began to calculate something involving lung size and frequency, but the teachers bell interrupted him.

"Lunch time!" his science teacher shouted, ringing his miniature version of the liberty bell. Ben snapped out of his trance and looked at the schedule. Up next was English, the only subject that he could actually pass. He was a distant relative of Alfred Tennyson, some famous poet from the 1800. For him, writing skills were hereditary. He could not pay attention every single class of the year and still pass with flying colors.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out exactly four dollars and fifty-seven cents. Lunch was only two dollars, but he always brought extra in case Cash tries to steal anything, which he did 76.83 percent of the time. He sighed, stuffed the money back in his pocket, and headed for the door.

* * *

AHH! SCIENTIFIC BLABBER! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!

Yeah... It's gone by the next chapter, thank goodness. Anyway, Review to your hearts content. I'm open to constructive criticism, but I will laugh in the face of flamers.

Up next: Chapter 2: Diamondhead


	2. Diamondhead

Yay, chapter 2. This is where it get's gory. -evil smile- It's much longer than the last chapter, but I'm not sure if this really is long. Sorry science fans, but that ends here. It's time to move on. Besides, I'm not much of a scientist, and looked up most of that stuff online. Now, let's do some damage!

NOTE: Later in this chapter the colors get mixed up, so don't be confused. There's just a certain color you need to subtract from the mix to get it.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't really own anything... Man of Action does, though. The only semi-important person here that I own is the nurse. So there.**

* * *

Ultra-Ben hurled the dump truck, hitting the giant Vilgax square in the knee. "No!!" it screeched, dissolving into a pile of ashes. But this hero wasn't finished yet. He turned around and saw Goastfreak's army, consisting of the werewolf, the mummy, and Victor. The werewolf alien opened its jaws, about to release a 200 decibel blast of sound (he calculated that yesterday). It took a deep breath in, and let loose a deafening…

_Be-be-be-beep! Be-be-be-beep! _

"Ah!" (regular) Ben jerked awake, tossing himself out of bed by accident. He landed with a hard, nearly metallic thump, but it didn't hurt at all.

"Uhg, what happened," he moaned. By now, he would have usually have calculated something involving the pitch and where it was coming from to figure out it was his alarm, but not today. It took him a whole five seconds to realize this.

"Woah," he breathed. He tried thinking about Fourarms, just to test. No equations, no big words he couldn't understand, no nothing. He sighed with relief. Finally, he was cured from his science brain. He steadily climbed to his feet with shaky legs, still exhausted and sore from the day before. Getting beaten to a pulp and getting your lunch stolen by the school bullies wasn't exactly the best way to stay healthy.

An hour of rushing to get ready for school and being hit in the back of the head by spitballs on the bus, he finally reached school.

* * *

Ben stomped off of the bus, accidentally splashing down nearly ankle deep in a giant puddle. He grimaced as the chilly water soaked into his pants, plastering it to the sides of his short legs. He could hear a few people giggling behind him at his mistake. He clutched and squeezed the watch in anger. It was only nine in the morning and the day was already going downhill.

He trudged along the school yard, one food drenched and heavy. He hung his head in frustration and naturally blinked. That was when he noticed that something was wrong with the grass.

It looked slightly yellowish, like it was half dead. He kneeled down and plucked a stem. It felt and was shaped normally, the same over watered, over cut grass that the school took so much pride it. Just the color was off.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. It only made it worse- the grass was now real yellow-green. He looked at the building. The normally bright red bricks appeared dark orange. He glanced up, and discovered the sky had turned pure jade, dotted with bright yellow clouds.

Ben stared around the schoolyard. Everything looked like it had been wrapped in semi-translucent yellow plastic. Whites were yellows, greens were yellow-greens, reds were oranges, purples were browns, and so on. Everything that was already yellow glowed with radiance, popping out at him like a white dot on a black background. He took a few steps to the left and look down at the puddle now at his feet. He expected to see yellow-green eyes staring back, but no.

His eyes were pure metallic gold.

He stumbled back. Realizing that someone might see him like this, he hung his head low again. Maybe someone saw him earlier today? _No_, he thought, _they would have said something about it. It must have just set in now._

_Okay, Ben, just lay low today. Keep your face towards the ground and avoid eye contact at all costs,_ he instructed himself. _If you do, you'll be fine._

But what if it wasn't just today? What if he saw with yellow vision and had gold irises for the rest of his life?

"Aw man," he muttered, sure not looking forward to today.

* * *

It was the 4th of October, and so, as always, the teachers through us an outdoor barbeque for lunch celebrating the fact that we made it through the first month of school. Well, that and signaling the real work starts tomorrow, but they never actually say that out loud. Everyone at Bellwood learned that from experience.

Ben absentmindedly flowed with the crowd to lunch, seriously considering running away if anything else weird happens to him. He could go with Grandpa Max. Together, they could reform the Plumbers and go off to fight aliens all over the galaxy. No one would care what color his eyes are. He bet that most of them had a condition similar to his. He would fit in just fine.

He slipped out of the building, shivering at the sudden change of atmosphere. The air had a sharp metallic twang to it, like a thunderstorm was approaching. One was approaching- although Ben couldn't see it, a mass of dark clouds loomed on the horizon, threatening to wash out the annual school picnic. He pulled his arms close to him and sped up.

Ben bumped into someone, managing to knock their lunch out of their hands. He glanced up, but only daring to do so for a second. It was none other than Cash, a foggy golden puddle of milk on the ground in front of his feat. He whirled around in anger, also revealing a splotch of milk spilled on his shirt. Ben hardly managed to pull down his head in time.

"You idiot! Look what you just did!" he screamed. Ben saw him gesture to his shirt out of the corner of his eye. All conversation stopped abruptly as the entire fifth grade class turned their heads.

"Sorry Cash," he mumbled halfheartedly. Served him right. He squinted so the rest of the grade wouldn't see his freakish eye color.

"Sorry ain't enough," he growled. His head didn't move an inch. "Look me in the eye when I talk to you!" he commanded.

"No," Ben replied flatly. The bully's face turned bright orange. Having his milk spilled on his pissed him enough, but then being openly defied by the most uncool guy in school like that? He must have blown a circuit.

"Alright, that's it!" he barked. "You're getting it, big time!" He clenched his fist and aimed a punch right at Ben's head.

"Ahh!" Ben screamed, shooting up his arm to try and guard his face. No impact came. There was a strange noise, like metal against metal, than a spurting sound, then silence. After a few seconds, he even dared a look.

Even with the yellow tint, he looked like a ghost. His skin looked yellowish white, like teeth that hadn't been brushed in a few days. His whole body was shaking from head to toe. For three seconds, they stared at each other in shock. (Well, technically Ben was staring at Cash's lower body, but you get the point.) Something leaked out from under Cash's foot, mixing with the spilled milk to form a light creamsicle orange. And, because of his yellow vision mixing it up, that meant it was red. That meant blood.

"AHHHHOOOWWW!!" Cash yowled in pain, falling to the ground. Ben reacted instantly, hoisting him up and onto his back.

"I need some help here!" he called, half expecting Gwen to come and get Cash's other arm. Everyone was too stunned to speak. He grunted, knowing that he would have to do this on his own, and began to drag the screaming boy inside. "Someone just call an ambulance!" he added, and stumbled into the building.

Someone must have called someone, because a few seconds after he entered the building the principle called a school lockdown, telling everyone to stay in their classrooms. He limped through the halls as fast as he could, nearly crushed under the weight of the withering boy. But either he got a whole lot stronger or Cash had lost enough blood to change his weight, because as he went on the body seemed to become as light as a math textbook.

Ben sprinted through the halls, racing for the nurse's office that just had to be on the other side of the building. Blood continued to trickle from Cash's foot, leaving a splattered trail of crimson splotches in their wake. Heads poked out of their classroom all along the way, all wanting to see what all the fuss was about. He never stopped; not for questions, not for teachers; completely focused on his destination.

Finally, he saw it- a green sign with white print jutting out from the wall above an open doorway. _Nurses office. _He made a sharp 90 degree turn without slowing down a bit, bounded a few more steps onto the yellow-green carpet with luminescent yellow stars, and skidded to a halt in front of the desk. Cash moaned and leaned his head against Ben's shoulder, half unconscious.

"Nurse," he panted. "We have a problem."

* * *

Ben hung his head low, this time not to hide his eyes. He sunk farther into his cushy chair right inside the nurse's office. _Why here? Why now? Why him? _He asked himself for the umpteenth time. What just happened he wouldn't wish on anyone. Well, maybe he would wish it on Vilgax, but he wasn't even human.

Anyway, he didn't even know what happened, and he was pretty sure he didn't inflict the wound directly, but he still knew it was his fault. I he had watched where he was going, he wouldn't have bumped into Cash. He looked over at the silhouette behind the curtain, and saw the outline of the makeshift cast the nurse had whipped together to last until the ambulance arrived. _If I wasn't there, _he thought, _he wouldn't be in that thing._

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Ben?"

He jumped and turned around, for the first time that day looking someone in the eye. It was J.P. The worried look he had just worn was replaced by shock as he looked into the golden eyes. "W-what?" He shook himself. "You know, I'm not even going to ask."

"I wouldn't explain if you did," Ben retorted grumpily, and turned away. "What do you want?"

"I was going to ask if I could see Cash," his voice was shaking. Whether it was from Cashes accident or his golden eyes, Ben couldn't tell.

"Sorry," he replied dryly, "you can't. The nurse is still trying to stop the bleeding, and the ambulance will be here any second now."

"Oh, okay," J.P sighed. He turned around to sulked towards the door. Just in time, Ben remembered.

"Wait!" he called, beckoning him to come closer. "You won't tell anyone about the whole yellow eye thing, will you?" he whispered.

"Of course not! I won't tell a soul," he promised.

"Good," he sighed with relief.

_Wheee-oooow. _A siren bellowed outside the building. Ben leaped to him feet. "I have to go to the bathroom," he announced, and half ran into the bathroom.

He slumped down onto the closed toilet. This was, officially, the worst day of his life. First the Gray Matter brain, then the yellow vision, and now this. How could this get any worse? "Well, there could be Vilgax," he murmured.

_Look on the bright side,_ a gruff voice pushed to the front of his mind. _Cash will know better than to bother you again. He got what he deserved._

_No, he didn't! _Ben thought back. _No one deserves this. _

Running footsteps echoed through the hall and into the nurse's office. Ben tried to push out any thoughts and focus all of his brainpower on what was going on outside. The men entered the room, frantically trying to load Cash onto the stretcher.

"Is he going to be okay?" the nurse asked shakily.

"I don't know," a low voice answered. "Based on what we saw in the hall, he lost a whole lot of blood. That, and the wound might have been infected. But I promise, we will do the best we can."

Ben lifted himself from the seat and stealthily tip-toed to the door. He opened it just a crack, only enough for him to barely see. The men in uniform shot past the door, only their dull yellow clothing visible to his golden eye. Then it shot past.

Sticking out of Cash's foot was a bloodstained Diamondhead crystal.

* * *

Ohh! Something's up!

I hope you all got that yellow vision thing. If you don't, watch some Diamondhead transformations. Then you'll get it. Anyone who got it before this note get's a cookie.

Up next: Chapter 3- XLR8


	3. XLR8

Yes, I've finally updated. Took long enough. -.- Well, I hope you like. Congrats, monkeydluffynaruto, on getting the cookie. Here you go! (: :) The beginning and middle of this are kind of boring, but I had to give Ben some confidence, right? The ending is cool though. Nice and actiony, just how I likes it. I hope you likes it too.

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own this stuff. I just own people (everyone but Ben, Cash, Gwen, ect.). Nothing else.**

* * *

"Hello?"

"Uh, hi Gwen," Ben greeted nervously, not sure if his cousin was just going to hang up on him.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. Air whooshed past the speaker on her side as she bowed down. "It is a great honor to be speaking to you, oh great King of Dorks."

"Gwen, I'm serious."

"Oh," she meant it this time. She straightened back up and flopped down on her chair. "What did you do this time?"

"I kind of…" he twirled a pencil under his desk apprehensively. "Well, it's hard to explain…"

"Spit it out, doofus!" she growled.

"I hurt Cash's foot!" he admitted.

He could tell that she raised an eyebrow. "How bad?"

"Bad enough to send him to the emergency room," he muttered.

"Ben, you idiot!" Ben pulled the phone away at Gwen's outburst. "You could have killed him! Don't you remember?!"

"Remember what?" he asked, still a bit scared.

"You know, the Ten Commandments of Superheroing," She cleared her throat, ready to mock that stupid document he made that she just couldn't let him forget about. "Commandment 3: Thou shall not draw blood, even if thy enemy is a raging psychotic criminal butthead."

"It was an accident!" he explained, nearly screaming into the phone. "I bumped into him so he tried to punch me, but he stepped on something and hurt his foot, so I brought him to the nurses office and they called an ambulance… Oh, who am I kidding, it was all my fault!"

"How do you know that?" she asked in a weak attempt to comfort him.

"The thing he stepped on was a Diamondhead crystal."

Silence.

"Yeah, something's wrong with the watch. We should call Grandpa," she concluded.

"Already tried that. He's not home, remember?"

"Oh, right," she sighed, "The Plumber's reunion party. Why couldn't he have just been a regular Plumber? I'd rather have him smell like toilet water than have us getting attacked by aliens every day."

"But then I wouldn't have gotten the watch!" he argued.

She ignored that. "Look, you just keep calling Grandpa in case he comes back early, and I'll try to figure this out on my own. Get it, got it, good. Smell ya' later." She hung up.

Ben rolled his eyes, dropped the phone on his bedside table, and fell backwards onto his bed. He stared up at the now-white ceiling (his yellow vision had faded last night) and sighed. Grandpa was gone, Gwen was useless, and his parents didn't even know about the watch. He was on his own with this.

Ben's head rolled to the side, now facing his left arm. Something was different about the Omnitrix. It seemed duller. Maybe his eyes were turning black, just like they turned yellow. But everything else looked perfectly normal, so he just shrugged and rolled his head back up.

"Ben, school!" his mom called from downstairs.

"Coming Mo-" he stopped himself. "Sandra." Sometimes he wished that he had normal parents, like ones that didn't make you call them by first name. He hoisted himself up and stomped down the stairs. Something told him that today would be a very strange day.

Even by his standards.

* * *

So far, the day had been especially quiet. No one talked to him; no one even made fun of him. They all just looked away, still a bit shocked and nervous about yesterday's incident. Even the teachers left him alone, completely ignoring him in class. The only person who talked to him by gym class was a second grader asking for a piggy back ride wile he was switching classrooms.

"No," Ben told the boy.

"But you gave one to that other guy yesterday!" he argued. He tried to tell him that it was a one time thing, but that stubborn little kid didn't listen. Eventually he resorted to the distraction then flight method, which he had to admit wasn't all that heroic.

But, both thankfully and unluckily, things got a bit louder at the Gym teacher's announcement. "We're going to be having race day a little early this year due to next weeks forecast. It's today!"

The class was in three groups; the ones that cheered who love race day more than anything else during the school year, the perfectionists that panicked because they didn't get to practice, and the ones who groaned. Ben was one of the groaners.

For some, race day was the most annoying and horrible day of the year. It consists of a series of free for all races around the track and the person with the best time overall for their grade gets their name on the wall that year. Of course, only the really athletic kids ever get that honor, making it just a waste of time an energy for most.

The class sat through about four races, each with five participants. By that time, Cassidy, the captain of the girl's soccer team, was leading by 4.8 seconds. Mr. Lacey held up the clipboard and called out the next few names.

"Okay, next we have Jacob, Ryan," (People began whispering at the sound of the boy's name, sympathizing for anyone who had to go up against last year's champ.) "Chelsea, Kyla, and Ben."

Ben's head shot up, eyes wide with surprise. "Ah, man," he moaned.

A minute later he was at the starting line between Ryan and Jacob (who had taken his usual starting position in the center), leaning on his left knee. Of course he just had to go up against the fastest kid in school. He hoped that running from aliens over the summer would help him and braced himself for the sprint.

"On your mark, get set," the teacher blew into the whistle, and the runners blasted off.

They were already two seconds into the race, and Ben was already falling behind. Even the girls were ahead of him. Not wanting to look like a total wuss, he closed his eyes and urged his legs to move faster. But at second ten, something strange began to happen.

His foot slid on the concrete, but didn't trip him or slow him down. His leg flew forward, as if rolling on a ball of air. His other foot did the same. He was gaining speed quickly, zooming ahead of Kyla easily. The crowd gasped and murmured as he pulled ahead of Chelsea and Ryan.

Keeping his balance wasn't a small feat with his new found speed, especially when he had to turn the corner. He slipped around like a dizzy ice-skater, but not enough to let anyone know he was skating instead of running. To them, he just looked like he was a bit uncoordinated. Jacob was still ahead; completely oblivious to the fact that Ben was only a few yards behind.

Something was familiar about this whole situation, Ben realized like he had done it before. Many, many times before. The more he thought about it, the more he recognized it. His mind was racing as fast as his feet, trying to make sense of it while still keeping balance and not crashing into something. The feeling soon faded, and he began to focus solely on the race.

That's when he realized he just passed Jacob.

The class went wild as he ripped through the last turn. He hardly noticed though; he was still too surprised about his speed as the rest of the class. Then he realized what this felt like. XLR8! He was running exactly like XLR8, gliding on large wheels on the bottom of his feet. But he didn't feel any ball, just a large pocket of air. Whatever was under his feet, it was winning him the race and he was going to get his name on the wall that year.

Maybe whatever was going on with the Omnitrix wasn't that bad.

He was coming up to the finish now. Trying to get the most of this last few split seconds of adrenalin and speed, he closed and let his heart pound away in excitement. He still didn't want to make it look unnatural so he didn't speed up. He was going fast enough as is.

Ben passed the finish line, Jacob and the rest still left in the dust. He put his heals on the ground and literally skidded to a halt, almost falling over when he finally jerked to a stop. He panted, not to make it look natural but because he was actually pooped. The air under his foot had disappeared as he slowed, leaving no evidence that they were there at all.

Jacob finished next, panting even harder than Ben. He looked up at him, red faced, and smiled. He held out a sweaty hand.

"Nice race," he wheezed. Ben shook his hand, not even slightly grossed out by the moist skin. "How did you get so fast?"

"I practiced over the summer." He remembered all those times where he ended up running away from aliens and robots. "A lot."

"You want to hang out sometime?" he asked. Ben grinned. What was going on with the watch really was a good thing after all.

"Sure thing."

* * *

Ben strolled along the sidewalk, whistling merrily. He wasn't just excited about his new found friends (that's right- friends!), he was verging on giddy. He always imagined getting friends when people found out he was really a superhero, but this was downright better. He had eaten with Jacob that day at lunch, meeting all his friends and learning all about them. The real bonding had come that recess, where they all played kickball against some other guys, who they totally trounced thanks to Ben's ability to get a run on a hit most would get only a double on. The best part was that they actually liked him for who he is,not for what he could do to them. Plus,there was no Cash to plow his head into the dirt and hang his underwear from the flagpole.

He stopped whistling at thought of Cash. A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it and continued on. Cash was going to be fine. It was just his foot, he figured, it wasn't going to kill him. It would probably just put him on crutches.

Something rang behind him. It was an alarm- a noise that he had heard constantly all summer and signaled him to activate the watch, which he did. He slid against the far side of the house he was next to and peeked over his shoulder.

A large black van had appeared in the distance right in front of the bank, a few money bags being loaded into the back. The robber, dressed in ratty black clothes, slid into the car (not even bothering to put on his seat belt) and blasted off just as the police were turning the corner.

He looked down at the watch. A black silhouette of Ripjaws stood out against the green background. That wouldn't work. He twisted the knob once and it was replaced by Upgrade. That totally would work. He'll just jump on the car as it passes and take control. There was no time to consider anything else now anyways; the van was about to shoot past him. He leaped out at the car and pushed the knob down.

The change was quick, just a few short little pinches and stretches all over his body. Then he was transformed, flying through the air at the side of the car, arms outstretched and ready for the takeover. But there was one little problem.

He had a tail.

XLR8 slammed right into the metal, sending such a powerful shock through his body that he completely froze up. His stiff body tumbled backwards, throwing him down a few yards from where he got on. He rubbed his soar head with a three-pronged claw and wobbled to his feet.

"Hey, this might work," he realized. He flexed his forehead and the metallic plate fell down over his face, rendering the world blue. Just with a small bend of his toes, the balls commenced spinning and he shot forward.

At first everything was going fine- he was making good time, speedily closing in on the thief. Then he started to loose speed, coming up slower and slower until he wasn't actually getting any closer at all.

"What is wrong with me?" he shouted to himself, something he often did in alien form. He would never catch up to the criminal now! Unless…

"Time to take the back roads," he took a sharp turn and raced into the next house's backyard. This was Tony's yard- once you get over the five foot fence (which was a small feat for him) there was a quick forest pass that lead you to the next road. He could easily pass it through there, with or without XLR8 speed.

The first part was simple, just make a beeline for the fence and try not to squish the dog. He didn't, but he did manage to cover it's doghouse with the grass and dirt he tore up. Next was the fence. He expected to just run straight up it like he usually would, but he only made it half way up before slowing down to much and falling. But with his alien upper arm strength (which wasn't very spectacular considering the alien he was) he managed to wiggle his way up and jump over it.

He stumbled down the forest path, tripping over roots, rocks, and his own feet. He even fell down once, but managed not to lose too much time. He could see the street and hear the sound of police sirens coming up. He didn't have much time. He flew out of the woods and stopped in the middle of the road. A split second later he was hit by the truck.

XLR8 yowled and kicked his legs, one of which got stuck in the bumper. He dug one of his claws into the hood, not wanting to fall off and loose the guy again. He shook his leg so hard that it ripped one end of the bumper right off of the car, which screeched against the ground and sent up a continuous stream of sparks.

Trying to get a better grip so he could adjust himself, he pierced through the hood with his other hand. But it pierced something else too, which gave off a weird gushing noise. He curiously pulled it back out. A geyser of oiled spurted out, completely covering the metal. Less then a second later a spark hit the oil, and everything went wrong.

The whole front of the van seemed to spontaneously combust, suddenly bursting into flames before most people knew that there had been an oil leak. It broke almost everything it touched- the engine, the tires, the windshield, but thankfully not XLR8. The explosion just knocked him off- one hand tied up in a steaming piece of metal, the other still wet with oil. The van flipped onto its side with the criminal still inside.

The man's eyes were wide with fear, and his mouth opened in a muffled terrified scream. XLR8 was about to zoom away and leave him, but guilt was already building. He grunted. Looks like he had no choice but to go save the guy. He rushed in, figuring that his speed and outer shell would protect him from the inferno. Big mistake.

The oil on his hand and body combusted the second they hit fire, flinging him back out again into the wall of the hardware store. After a few seconds of dizziness and confusion, he lifted his head and retracted his mask to get a better view.

The fire was almost out of control, inching nearer and nearer to the pasture on the other side of the road every second. The thief continued to bellow in fright, pounding against the scolding hot metal of the car door. The flames were creeping up on his seat belt, threatening to light it (and him) on fire.

"Oh, I hate these impossible decisions!" he complained. There was no immediate danger if the pasture caught fire, but there was in the thief bursting into flames. Pushing down his mask once more, he rolled off into the blaze.

In a few seconds he was there, yanking at the door with all his might. At last it gave in, and XLR8 managed to undo the man's seatbelt and drag him out. The interior burst into flames a few moments later. He hugged the man as close to his chest as possible to protect him and charged back into the fire. He was out on the other side five seconds later. As he exited, he passed the nearest police car and dropped the whimpering criminal off in the arms of that car's officer.

He skirted the edge of the fire to see if it had reached the fields yet. Sure enough, it had. The plain was alight with dancing fire, spreading in ever direction, including his. Fire truck sirens blared in the distance. It was too late for him to do anything; he had to retreat before he was engulfed in flames.

He turned around and, with his head hanging low is disappointment, skated off for home.

* * *

Yeah, not the best chapter. Well, the next one will be better, I promise. See you next time!

Coming up next:

Chapter 4: Ripjaws


	4. Ripjaws

I am so sorry I haven't updated this in so long! I was partipating in National Novel Writing Month, where I had to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. And I failed miserably. XD Anyway, I can write now. Sorry the chapter is so short- I was rushing. It's really bad, too.

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything but Ben's friends. And the nurse and doctor. Everything else isn't mine. Yep.**

* * *

"Hey guys!" Ben sat down at the end of the table and sat his tray down in front of him. "What's up?"

"Guess who got a B on the math test? Me!" Caleb bragged.

"Aw, sweet! High five!" Ben held up his hand, and his new friend slapped it.

"What'd you get?" Jacob asked. "I got a C."

"C minus," Ben lied. He really had gotten an A minus, thanks to that weird brain surge he got. It didn't work all the time, but he did have his moments now and again.

"Sweet," he nodded. They went around the table, each kid telling everyone else their score. These guys weren't the smartest guys in the school, and many of them failed. Ben's brain sparked a little, and he averaged the scores to about a D plus.

Thunder crackled outside the building. It had been raining cats and dogs all day now. His throat began to feel a little dry, so he popped open his water bottle (they were out of soda) and took a sip. He instantly felt better.

"Did you see the news yesterday?" Caleb asked me.

"No," Ben answered through a mouthful of pizza.

"You should have. It was intense! Someone got a great shot of XLR8 being hit by the car. That thing is so going to get YouTubed."

Ben blushed on the inside. Like he didn't have enough of his mistakes on YouTube already. "I'll Google it sometime," he replied, his throat drying out again. He drunk some more.

"Remember the one where Diamondhead fell off that blimp thing…"

It went on for a while like that, Caleb reminding him of all those viral videos that Gwen just wouldn't let him forget and Ben alternating between eating, drinking, and giving short replies or making a fake, halfhearted laugh. Mostly drinking though. His throat was drying quicker and quicker, and he had to drink more and more water each time to sooth it. In almost not time at all, he had worked his way through the whole pint.

"Excuse me for a moment," he stood up and power walked to the water fountain. He took a really long drink, filled his water bottle, and returned to his seat.

"You okay, Ben?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit thirsty," he replied, taking a small sip from his water bottle.

"More like really thirsty," he retorted. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some kind of fish."

He couldn't help but smile at that. In a way, he really was some kind of fish. Some kind of alien fish named Ripjaws.

"Alright, this is your five minute warning," one of the lunch ladies announced over the cafeteria microphone. "Everyone clear your tables and we'll dismiss you."

"You want to go to the movies tonight?" Jacob asked, picking up his lunch tray.

"Nah," Ben sighed. "I have to go watch my cousin at some karate tournament." That was the truth for once. He didn't see why he had to go watch Gwen kick people's butts- he'd seen it enough over the summer to make it not so special. Besides, he already knew what the outcome would be: she enters, she wins, she rubs it in his face for the rest of the month.

"That must suck," he replied sympathetically. "I have to go to my sister's gymnastics shows all the time. And let me tell you- total bore fest. At least you get to watch people kick butt."

See above explanation for why that didn't cheer him up at all.

They dumped their leftovers into the trashcan and sat back down to their seats to get dismissed (of course, Ben stopped both ways to get a drink). The rest of the lunch was uneventful- just waiting and talking and other random things fifth grade boys do. Ben was enjoying every minute of it. It wasn't every day he had friends to hang out with at lunch.

The table was dismissed, and he went back to his social studies classroom. He stopped twice on the way there to drink from the water fountain, and fell behind all of his friends. By the time he got there, the teacher was already giving a lecture about Christopher Columbus or something. He wasn't sure, but when he walked in, everyone was staring. He quickly apologized to the teacher and sat down at his usual spot.

"Anyway," the teacher continued, "In 1492, Columbus and his three ships, the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, set off for the new world…"

The pain in Ben's throat drowned out the teacher's blabbering. It was burning like fire, dry and rough like sandpaper. Flaming sandpaper to be precise. He coughed once or twice before finally raising his hand.

"Can I go get a drink?" he croaked. Just saying that burned his dry mouth.

The teacher didn't even look at him. "No, Ben. Next time get it _before_ class. So when he landed…"

Ben wanted to groan, but it would hurt way too much. He was getting dizzy. The teacher, who he was pretending to concentrate on, went in and out of focus repeatedly. He laid his head on his desk like most of the other students, eyes half closed. The only thing keeping him awake was the searing pain in his windpipe. Not because of boredom- he was exhausted for no reason at all.

That's when he realized that he wasn't breathing.

Alarmed, he took a deep breath. The action seemed overly voluntary, and when he did, he felt like he didn't get any oxygen at all. He breathed out, feeling the air rush over his parched tongue. He had air in him, all right. He breathed in again, but still no relief came.

He felt like he was drowning above water, unable to draw air from the substance around him no matter how hard he breathed. What was this? Had his lungs stopped working? He was too tired to think about that. He was too tired to think about anything for that matter. The world distorted around him, blurring and flashing and spinning, until it finally disappeared altogether.

"Ben?" the teacher asked, staring curiously at him. He was starring blankly at his desk, eyes unblinking. He couldn't hear him- he couldn't hear anyone. He was completely separated, choking on nothing, his energy draining. Even the pain had disappeared. He couldn't stay awake anymore, and passed out.

He fell right of his chair and onto the floor with a thud, chest unmoving. The class, for the second time that week, froze with terror. Even the teacher, who was the one who was supposed to do something about this, was paralyzed and useless. But one kid, one of Ben's friends, whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, the teacher would have confiscated that phone right then and there.

"My friend's in trouble! He's not breathing, and I think he's unconscious!" he shouted into the phone the second someone picked up. "Hurry!"

And that's when everyone panicked. The teacher called the nurse. The rest of the class was either frozen or shouting, but everyone was worried about Ben. This was the second time this week that there was a medical emergency here, and everyone knew that that was bad.

The nurse was the first to get there. She kneeled down next to him, confused as to what was happening. She tried CPR, but he just flopped around like a fish. He could feel anything- all of his senses had been cut off. He felt like he wasn't anywhere anymore. He felt like he was dead.

And maybe he was.

It felt like forever for everyone before the ambulance got there. The men, dressed in white coats, carefully lifted the limp body onto the gurney. They rolled him out of there, loading him onto the ambulance under the shaded parking area. Soon they were on the road, screaming down the highway to get him to the hospital in time.

"His heart is still beating," the nurse reported, pulling the stethoscope off of his chest. "It's amazing he's lasted this long. It's been almost five minutes since he's stopped breathing."

"Well, we can't let it go any longer than that," another doctor replied, concerned. "Do whatever you can to make his lungs start up again."

"Yes, sir," she took out a football shaped balloon with a mask attached to the end. She placed the mask over Ben's face and secured it, then began pumping the balloon. Air rushed down his windpipe and into his lungs. Only a tiny reaction.

"Keep doing that until we can get him proper care at the hospital," the doctor ordered. "It'll hopefully keep him alive until we get there."

The nurse nodded and kept pumping, barely giving him enough oxygen to keep his heart beating.

Whenever the nurse pumped a blast of air into his throat, Ben felt a sudden burst of energy, turning on his senses for only a millisecond before blacking out again. Although he wasn't aware at the time, each time he went back into the darkness, he felt less and less like himself.

But more and more like Ripsaws.

He could feel the huge teeth and webbed claws. An anglerfish's light dangled from his forehead. He was standing in the void, gasping for water.

Water. He needed water.

The next time the nurse pumped, he used that speck of condenses as well as he could. All he was able to do, though, is gasp: "Wa-" Then he blacked out again.

"Did you hear that?" the nurse shouted in disbelief.

"Hear what?" the doctor asked, standing up.

"Oh, no. It was nothing," she assured. He sat down again, puzzled and anxious. She pumped more air, but this time he stayed silent.

"We're here!" the driver called after another minute of driving. The downpour had slowed their travel a lot. "About time."

The nurse gave him one last pump and grabbed the gurney, ready to push. The doctor did the same.

"Do you think the rain will be a problem?" he asked. "It might just make his condition worse."

"There's no time for that!" she shouted, stressed. The last thing she needed on her résumé was bringing in a dead on arrival because they were worried about a little rain. "We need to get him inside, now!" Without another word, she pushed open the door and ran out into the rain, dragging Ben and the doctor behind her.

Pellets of rainwater splashed against their faces, soaking them in a second. They tried their best to keep the rain from getting to the patient so he wouldn't get hypothermia or something, but the weak attempt failed miserably. But that wasn't really a bad thing.

Ben was completely unaware of what was happening. All he knew was that he was slowly but surely dying, unable to get any oxygen. He didn't even realize that he had been dying for the past fifteen minutes. He didn't know he was in an ambulance, or that there were two people with him. He was just lying there, oblivious to the world, his heart about to come to a complete halt-

_Plop!_

Something landed on his neck, and his heart beat twice at a normal pace before slowing down again.

_P-plop!_

Two more things fell on him, one on his cheek and one on his lip, and his heart beat even more. Before he could even register the energy, he was bombarded with these things, whatever they were.

His heart sped up drastically, as if it was trying to make up for lost time. His senses began to slowly reboot. The first thing he noticed was that he was wet- sopping wet. He finally had his water, and it felt amazing.

He opened his eye a slit, taking in his blurry surroundings. He was outside, alright, and it was still pouring. His eyes rolled to the left, and he saw a big white building with blue glass windows. He knew this place from when his mom got her leg surgery when he was seven- the Bellwood Hospital. He must have passed out in class or something, and now they were taking him to the emergency room. Well it was about time he got better.

He opened his eyes wide, like he had just woken up from a trance. Then, with much effort, he sucked in as much air as his broken lungs could hold, held it for a second, and let all of the air (which he didn't get a bit of use out of) in a loud puff. The doctors stopped and looked down at him.

He glanced up, trying to look clueless. "Um, where am I and why am I in a gurney?"

* * *

"Can I have some water?" Ben asked. Even though he said he was fine, the hospital people wouldn't let him go anywhere. He knew that it was for his own good, but it was still annoying. He needed to talk to someone who knew what might be going on with him, like Grandpa. Or Gwen, either one would work.

"Sure," the nurse smiled warmly, walking out the door. Since he was alone again, he decided to stop breathing again. It wasn't helping at all, and it was becoming a chore. He let his chest halt and waited, still soaking in the water on his soaked clothes. Thank goodness they hadn't tried to change him out of it by then.

The nurse came back in a minute later with a cup of cold water in her hand. He decided to save it for when he dried off, and put it on the side table after taking only a sip. She turned around to leave, but then Ben remembered something.

"Wait," he stopped her. She turned around. "Do you know if there's anyone in this hospital named Cash, possibly with a foot injury?"

"Oh, yes, he's upstairs on the fourth floor," she replied.

"Well, if you see him, could you give him a message?" he asked.

"Of course. Do you want to write it down?"

"Sure."

She handed him a napkin and her pen. He scribbled down a note, folded it up and handed it to her.

She put the napkin in her pocket. "Okay, I'll give him the message." She paused. "Oh, and there's someone here to pick you up. They insisted that you needed to come home right away."

"Who?" he asked, expecting his parents.

"She's right over here," she gestured to the door. And, lo and behold, Gwen was there, leaning against the doorway with the usual smirk on her face.

"Ben," she said, "We need to talk."

* * *

The next chapter will be better, hopefully. I hope you enjoyed Ripjaws.

**NEXT TIME: Fourarms**


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